


Jesse's Ghoul 2: Snow Day

by fullamoxie



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Ghosts, Post El Camino, Transfem Jesse Pinkman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullamoxie/pseuds/fullamoxie
Summary: With freedom at last and a new name, Michelle Driscoll has been living peacefully in Haines, Alaska, for 3 years when the past arrives in an unexpected form.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Jesse's Ghoul 2: Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

> FOR CLARIFICATION: In this AU, Jesse Pinkman discovered that she was trans at the start of the show. This AU functions under the assumption that nearly every major plot point was the same, and that only minor things were changed (ie Walter's manipulation tactics, Jesse's relationship with some of her customers).

It had been three years. Michelle had gotten used to the snow, and had settled into a nice life. She had a warm cabin, a big dog, and a new girlfriend. Alaska was, currently, treating her much better than her home of Albuquerque ever had. She was taking her dog Scrabble on a walk when all of that changed.

She’d just reached the end of their usual walking path, and had turned around to head back home. Scrabble, however, hadn’t moved. Michelle whistled for her to start moving, but she was steadfast. Michelle looked at her, waiting for her to react to her commands.

Just as she was about to whistle again, a low growl began in her dog’s throat. Michelle was surprised. “Hey,” she said, gently but loud enough that her dog heard and stopped growling.

For a few seconds.

“Hey!” Michelle said, louder this time, but Scrabble didn’t even stop growling. Her growl became a bark. “What the hell,” she said under her breath. Why was her dog not listening to her? What was she even barking at? There was nothing out there. . .

_ Wait. . . was that. . . a person? _

After a second look to the woods, Michelle did see somebody out in the trees. Far off, barely visible from between the snow-covered pines, but there. She also noticed that the person was staring right at her. Michelle lifted her arm and waved at them. The stranger didn’t seem to move. Shrugging it off, Michelle told Scrabble to stop barking and pulled on the leash until at last, she gave up and began to follow Michelle home.

* * *

A few times on that walk back, Michelle felt a chill run down her back. The first time she figured some snow had gotten in her coat. When it happened again, she reached under her coat and felt her back. All that was there was the warm sweat that comes from an hour long walk with your dog.

Michelle tried to shrug this off too, but by the third chill, she knew something was wrong. She turned around, her head slowly filling with old paranoias and anxieties. Thoughts she hadn’t thought since leaving Albuquerque appeared, worse than before, as if the time away from them had only let them ferment and grow terribly.

Behind her, far in the distance, she saw a figure standing between two houses. They were too far away for her to know if they were the same person from before, but all of her anxieties told her that they were one and the same.

_ They’ve found you, it’s all over _ , the voice of her anxiety began to repeat, again and again.

Michelle quickened her pace to get home. She turned the corner to her street. Was that another person, or the same one? How did they get all the way to the end of her street? Michelle’s heart was beating faster and faster. She knew that everything would be okay if she could just make it home. Her dog was trailing behind, panting heavily.

“C’mon,” Michelle said to Scrabble. “Almost there.” With her house in view, Michelle almost broke into a sprint. She struggled with the keys, dropping them once and then putting them in upside-down. But finally, Michelle burst through the door. Her dog followed her in, and she slammed the door shut.

Breathing heavily, Michelle drew the curtains and laid down on the floor. From the ground, she peeled off her coat and twisted around to see where her dog had gone. Scrabble was standing at her water dish, slurping it up and, in the process, spraying the kitchen with water. Michelle smiled, and when Scrabble was done drinking, she called her over to pet her.

“Sorry for pushing you too hard,” Michelle whispered, rubbing along her dog’s back and scratching her ears. Her dog grunted in response and the two of them were asleep.

* * *

When Michelle woke up a few hours later, her stomach was grumbling. The sun had already set, and it sounded like snow was coming. Luckily, Michelle still had some microwave dinners in her fridge. She gave Scrabble a cup of dog food before skimming the directions on the back of one and tossing it into the microwave. The pot pie had nine minutes to cook, so Michelle had time to kill. 

She went back into the living room to pet Scrabble, who was still lying there, snoring loudly. Michelle smiled at her. She leaned down to pet her dog, and--

Something bright lit up the window. Michelle jumped from the sudden change in her house’s lighting.  _ Damn it _ , she thought.  _ Yo, turn off your brights! _ she wanted to yell out at them. She went to the window and opened the curtains.

The light suddenly vanished. Outside, Michelle could see nothing but the snow gently drifting to the ground. She was about to close the blinds again, irritated, when something moved. Michelle froze. It was coming closer. Something grey was zigzagging toward her through the snow and the darkness. Michelle squinted. Her tight grip on the curtains was starting to hurt her fingers.

Finally, the thing came into her vision. Michelle screamed. Scrabble yelped in surprise as Michelle tripped backwards, nearly landing on her. From the floor, she couldn’t see anything at the window. Carefully, Michelle got up. Still, nothing there. She shut the curtains again, and tried hard to focus on her breathing and forget who she thought she’d seen standing outside her window.

* * *

The next morning, Michelle rose early, already having forgotten the events of the previous day. It was her day off, but she wanted a good headstart on the day, and she needed to shower. She grabbed herself a towel, stripped down, and stepped in. While washing her light brown hair, she mapped out the day in her head.

She was rinsing out her conditioner when something crashed in the living room. Michelle jumped. “Je-sus!” she yelled in surprise. Her whole train of thought distracted, she spent the rest of her shower wondering what could have made such a loud noise. Did something fall over, or did someone break in?

Then, she remembered her pursuer (or pursuers?) and the face in the window. Her blood ran cold. She turned off the water, wrapped a towel around herself, and, sopping wet, rushed out to see what had happened.

She didn’t immediately notice anything was amiss. No windows or doors had been broken open, nothing had fallen and shattered, and there was no sign of an intruder. Michelle sighed, beginning to think she’d imagined the noise. She returned to the bathroom to finish her shower, but just as she was about to turn the water on, she heard the sound again.

She jumped again, but this time, she was more angry than scared. Michelle went back into her living room. Again, nothing was wrong.

“Yo, is there somebody in here?” she called. “It’s not fu—,” she tried, but a third noise cut her off. This time, it was right in her ear. She whirled around to see any sign of. . .  _ anything  _ in her home, but again, she came up empty. Her attention turned toward Scrabble, who was staring at her.

A low growl was again building in Scrabble’s throat. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Michelle said. Scrabble barked. A chill went down her spine, identical to the ones from yesterday. Michelle turned around.

Michelle felt her palms clam up. Her heart stopped beating for a second, and her stomach rose to her throat. It took everything she had to not vomit at the sight of her ex-girlfriend, Andrea, who had been murdered in front of her four years ago.

Her face was rotten. Her fingers and toes were black with frostbite. Her dark hair was matted with blood and dirt, and it was as thin as the hair of a mummy. A bullet hole oozed dark puss and streaks of frozen blood leaked from every orifice. She stood there, silently looking at Michelle for a moment. Michelle had been paralyzed with fear, unable to do anything but wait and see what would happen.

After a few moments or years of silence, Andrea spoke. Her jaw had been frozen shut, and it took considerable effort for her to snap it open so she could speak. Her breaths were ragged, and it was visible as a cold mist. Her tongue, which Michelle could see through rotted holes in her cheeks, was barely there.

“Why,” Andrea said, her voice rough and dry. “Why?” she asked again. Michelle knew what Andrea was asking about. Michelle tried to swallow, but her mouth now seemed just as dry as the spectre who stood before her.

“I didn’t--,” Michelle tried, but the sentence died on her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said instead, but in light of what she was seeing, the words were hollow and useless. She shut her eyes, forcing herself to think back to that night. “There was nothing I could do,” Michelle said, shakily. “They had me tied up. I tried to stop them, I tried so hard.” Her gaze had fallen to the floor, the spell on her movement broken. Tears began to stream down her face. “I did everything I can to stop them from hurting Brock,” she continued. Michelle was weeping now. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and froze once more. A second hand reached down and lifted her chin. Michelle saw the face of her murdered girlfriend, rotted and frozen.

“I. . .” the spectre said, slowly, “understand.” She smiled down at Michelle, as easily as her frostbitten face would allow. “It wasn’t. . . your fault. . .” she continued, her cold, stilted voice almost asking instead of telling. Then, in a moment, she was gone. Michelle began to cry again, harder and worse than before. However, this time, when she was finished, she felt as if something had been lifted from her.

When she woke up on the floor, Scrabble was licking her face. Michelle smiled, and pet her dog. Scrabble wagged her tail.


End file.
